Rabastan Lestrange (sirknight) wrote in obscuritas, @ 2009-08-07 12:00:00 |
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Current music: | jeremy camp - this man |
WHO: Rabastan Lestrange
WHERE: Azkaban Wizarding Prison
WHEN: Friday afternoon
WHAT: Rabastan paces around his cell, thinking about the same things he always thinks on.
RATING: PG
STATUS: Complete | Closed
The walls closed in more and more with each passing day. Rabastan lost track of all time--the darkness of Azkaban consistent enough that he no longer knew when to sleep or when to remain awake.
He paced back and forth on the diagonal of his cell, mumbling to himself. If he slept, he would have nightmares of all his worst fears--being tortured by the Dark Lord for failure, seeing his brother or Bellatrix die before his eyes, being helpless to save the ones he loved or respected. He knew the recapture meant the Dark Lord questioned his worth, along with the worth of all the rest in Azkaban.
Unfortunately, Voldemort needed every last Death Eater--including the ones in prison.
When will he come for us? he asked himself. Every day Rabastan's routine of questions bombarded his mind. At the very least, he stopped doubting the Dark Lord's love for all of them. Even the God muggles believe in chastise those who disobey, but it does not mean God will not come to them, he reminded himself. The Dark Lord was God to him, the father who recognised his achievements and only punished him when it was necessary, when Rabastan would actually learn something from it. "I hate my father," he whispered, thinking of the man that turned him into the destroyed, broken man he became. "Rodolphus was always better. Rodolphus was always perfect. Why can't you be more like Rodolphus?"
The effect of Azkaban in the absence of Rabastan's regiment of potions for his bi-polar turned him into a paranoid schizophrenic. Every sound he heard meant something--the Dark Lord was coming back, a dementor came for him, maybe he would see the face of his brother again.
A tear fell from Rabastan's face--perhaps in anger, perhaps in frustration, perhaps for no reason at all. He wanted nothing more than to feel freedom once more. Most of his life he spent in that prison and he had forgotten what it felt like to smile, to laugh, and to hold a woman to him. He stopped walking, stopping in the center of his cell to face the back wall. Minutes passed before he finally smirked, thinking of yet another way to taunt the guards. He had marks all over his body from being blasted against the stones.
"YOU WILL COWER BEFORE US SOON ENOUGH!" he hollered through the bars. A guard jogged over to his cell, commanding he back up. Rabastan let out a cackle, "I do not fear anything you will do to me. You cannot kill me. You cannot torture me." Rabastan stretched his arm through the bars to grab the guard's wand without success. The guard blasted him, as he suspected, against the wall. "I will stop at nothing to get back to my Lord. You will beg me for death."
Rabastan closed his eyes where he landed after the blast not bothering to shift his body for comfort. He fantasised about things he had longed to experience once again.